from a woman not so unlike me, 2000 years ago:
i had just begun to think maybe it was all worthwhile. all the smallness, the awkwardness of my early life. the way i lost my family when i went to my husband, the fisherman. the many times i wanted to say something to my husband, to explain, but didn’t. because i knew he wouldn’t understand.
i had finally found someone who let me belong, who listened. even when i didn’t speak, he seemed to understand. seemed to take all that fear and drudgery and infuse it with hope.
but i guess i was wrong. and now its over, and what is hope? why did i put all my hope in one place? he is gone now. i saw it myself, when the light went out of his eyes. that terrible day, i was reduced again to silence in the face of his mockers.
and the worst is that despite all appearance of despair, something in me won’t let go. it seemed, as he sat silent before the crowd, and silent on his cross, that he knew something more than we know. it seemed that perhaps he would defy them all and come down, miraculous...make all things well...
but instead he left us alone. i’ve no idea what to do, but keep attending him, loving him now as i did then, hoping in him now as i did then, though it is hopeless now. i can’t sleep this morning so mary and i will go down to his tomb and bring fragrances, our last act of love to him who left us on a path to nowhere.
God please make something beautiful of this mess...
I really liked this Easter reflection. It's easy to forget that Biblical characters are also Biblical *people* who are just like us -- 2000 years later.
ReplyDeleteThat the first report of the resurrection hinged on a woman's testimony in an androcentric world is classic Jesus.
In one of my posts, I also entered the realm of creating an extra-scriptural scene when I wrote about Paul making a tent. It's kind of like fan fiction, haha.